CHAPTER XIII
A BAD FALL
On opening his letters one day Joe found one from the management of a county fair that was to open in the town of Livingston the next week. The writer offered Joe an engagement for an entire week, but at a price considerably less than Joe had been getting from other places.
"I don't believe I'll accept," Joe half decided. "If I start to cutting prices it will get known all over the country, and I'll have to do it all along the line."
He was about to send back a rejection when he reflected.
"Maybe I'd better look over my engagements and see how I can make this week fit in. A solid week in one place, even at less money, may be better than jumping from one one-night stand to another. I guess I'll think twice about this."
Joe found that the week for which the Livingston people wanted to engage him was not occupied by a single engagement so far, though, as inquiries were constantly coming in, Joe would probably soon fill it with single-day contracts.
"I guess I'll accept, after all," he said to himself. "I can jump to Livingston from Portville, and it won't cost much for railroad transportation. Then a week solid will give me a chance to rest, and Ryan and Jeroleman also."
They had been quite busy of late, going from place to place, putting up and taking down the apparatus, and the strain was beginning to tell on all of them.
So Joe sent an acceptance to the Livingston fair management, and made his plans accordingly. Following the week there he was to show for three days at one fair and three at another, necessitating only three shifts in two weeks, which was considerably less than the average.
"And now for Livingston!" exclaimed our hero one afternoon when he had made his last ride at one of the largest exhibitions in that part of the country. It was a celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the founding of the city, and Joe's act was one of many features.
"It will seem good to be a week in the same place," observed Ryan, as he and his partner began dismounting the apparatus.
"That's right," agreed Joe.
But if Joe thought it was going to be a week unmarked by incident he was mistaken. There was bad mingled with the good, and the bad cropped out early the next day when our hero and his helpers reached the fair grounds to look them over, decide on the best place to stretch the wire and set up the supports.
As he had done in many other places, Joe picked out the grassy center of the oval race-track as the best place for him, as from there he could be seen by the largest crowds. Ryan and Jeroleman began to unpack the apparatus and motor-cycle, which, as well as the sectional supports, ground anchors, and other heavy devices, was in a crate.
"Hello! Something wrong here," exclaimed Ryan, as he took out the gasoline machine.
"Not broken, is it?" asked Joe in anxiety.
"That's what it is. Sprocket chain of the starter is parted in two places."
"That's queer," said Joe. "It can be easily fixed, of course, but how did it happen?"
They discovered that when they examined the case. One end had been smashed in the express car, and through a hole thus made something had jammed into the chain, breaking two links.
"Well, it might be worse," said Joe, as he looked it over. "I'll take the chain to a garage in town, while you boys set up the rest of the stuff."
"How do you want it faced?" asked Ryan.
Joe looked up to get the directions east and west, for he always ran the high wire that way. Thus, in the morning he would ride over it from east to west, and so have the sun at his back, and not glaring in his eyes. And in the afternoon he reversed his riding, going from west to east.
"Set it up so," he said to Ryan, indicating the direction desired. "I'll walk into town and get the chain fixed."
With the fractured sprocket chain Joe was soon on his way to a garage, while his helpers busied themselves on the work of setting up the high supports and stretching the wire between them.
It was still early in the morning, but there was much work to be done, for Joe was to give his first exhibition of daring riding at 10:30 o'clock.
Ryan and Jeroleman buried the heavy steel anchors and attached to the hooks on them the "eyes" in the ends of the wire on which Joe would soon ride fifty feet high in the air. A crowd of fair exhibitors and some early arrivals, mostly farmers, watched the work, though the space around the spot where the apparatus was being set up was roped off to keep curious ones at a comfortable distance.
In a comparatively short time, so expert had Ryan and Jeroleman become, they had the wire in place, and stretched about as tightly as it would be when Joe used it. He always tightened it just before the act, as it had a tendency to sag if left up too long. Then, too, the earth anchors would give a little, though the ground above and around them was always wet and tamped down to make it firm.
"Now we'll put up the net and I guess we'll have finished," said Ryan. "That is, all but putting up the dressing tent for the young boss," he added.
"Yes, we're ready for the net now," agreed Jeroleman. "Why——Hello! This is queer!" he exclaimed, looking about "The net box isn't here!"
"It isn't?" cried Ryan. "Then the truckman must have left it at the express office. I'm sure I saw it there with the rest of the stuff."
"We'd better call 'em on the 'phone and find out about it. We've only got about an hour before the first performance, and the boss will be back any minute with the repaired chain. There's a temporary telephone office on the grounds here. I'll call up the express agent."
"Go head," said Ryan, and Jeroleman hastened off.
There was a queer look on Jeroleman's face when he came back from telephoning.
"The net didn't come with the rest of the stuff," he said. "The agent has wired back about it, but it can't get here in time for the morning show, no matter if they send it at once. There isn't a train."
"Whew!" whistled Ryan. "What's to be done?"
"I don't know. It isn't our fault. I'm positive the box with the life-net in it was at the depot last night with the rest of the stuff."
"So am I. It must be the fault of the expressman at the other end. What will the boss do?"
Joe was not a minute making up his mind what he would do when he returned with the repaired sprocket chain.
"No net, eh?" he asked coolly, when the difficulty had been explained to him. "Well, I'll ride without one, that's all."
"Ride without a net?" cried Ryan.
"You mustn't do it!" expostulated Jeroleman.
"Why not, I'd like to know?" asked our hero. "I've never had a fall since those first few times, and I'm not going to begin now. I wouldn't bother with the net, only I promised Mr. Brader. It's a nuisance carting it about and spreading it each time. I'll ride without it. I'm not going to fall."
The two helpers gazed almost spellbound at Joe.
"Well, you sure have your nerve with you!" said Ryan admiringly.
"That's what," agreed his companion.
"I need nerve in this business," laughed Joe. "I'll ride without the net. I never think of it anyhow. I don't believe it would save me much. The best way is not to fall."
Joe put the chain back on his motor-cycle and got ready to perform his hair-raising act, while his men erected the dressing tent. By this time quite a crowd had begun to filter into the fair grounds, for it was the opening day and Joe's thrilling performance had been well advertised. He himself supplied those engaging him with big posters, showing him riding the high wire, and often he had seen crowds of admiring small boys standing in front of the bill-boards.
The absence of the net did not seem to cause any comment until some of the fair managers came to Joe's tent to find out if he was all ready to go ahead with his share of the show. And then one man, looking at the high and tightly stretched wire, asked:
"What happens if you fall, Mr. Strong?"
"I'm not in the habit of taking tumbles," Joe answered, with a cool laugh.
"No, but don't you use a net in case of accident?"
"Usually, yes. But my net has gone astray, and, rather than wait for it and delay the exhibition, I'm going to ride without the life-net this morning."
"Oh, no, you're not!" exclaimed the objector. "We're not going to have you killed, and then stand a law-suit for damages. You'll use a net!"
"How can I, when I haven't one?" Joe asked, a bit tartly. "And as for damages, you seem to forget that my contract with you releases the management from all liability for damage in case of accident. I assume all the risks."
But it required quite a little explaining and talk before the fussy member of the fair commission withdrew his objections.
"Well, go ahead and ride without a net, if you want to," he said, "but if you get hurt, don't come crying to us."
"I'm not very likely to do much crying—not if I fall," said Joe grimly, as he looked up at the high wire. "But I'm not going to fall—don't worry."
As a matter of fact, the net did not absolutely assure Joe of safety when he did use it. It was one of the best life-nets made—Mr. Brader had seen to that. And had Joe fallen into it alone from a fifty-foot height, he would probably not have been in the least injured. The trouble was the heavy motor-cycle falling with him—in that lay the danger, for he could not expect to fall far enough away from it to escape injury altogether. But, as the plucky lad had said, he did not intend to tumble.
Word soon got around that the daring young performer was going to ride without a life-net below him, and this added to the expectant thrills with which the crowd was imbued.
"Say, that sure will be a thriller!" said more than one to his neighbor, as he took his seat to watch Joe.
As for our hero, he went on with his preparations as though nothing out of the ordinary was under way. Attired in his white suit, to which he had lately added silver spangles that sparkled like diamonds in the sun, he stepped from his tent and took his place at the end of the starting ground. There was a shout of welcome as Joe made his bow, taking his helmet of leather from Ryan, and then looking over the motor-cycle which Jeroleman stood holding for him.
There was a preliminary pause—a pause made for dramatic effect—when Joe examined the machine, and also the wire and the supports, having the wire made a little tighter.
"All right?" asked Ryan, as Joe came back from the farthest pair of shears.
"All ready, yes. I'll start now."
Joe took his place in the saddle of the motor-cycle and looked about him. There was a great silence all over the vast assemblage of persons, for all realized that this was the most daring act they had ever witnessed.
With a throb and a roar the engine seemed to leap into action. Then Joe was seen speeding across the smooth ground. A moment more and he had reached the end of the guiding chalk line. Then he began the slanting ascent.
"There he goes! There he goes!" came the cries, from all sides.
Up and up went Joe.
Now he shot out on the straight stretch of wire. And, though it may seem strange, Joe gave hardly a thought to the fact that there was no protecting net beneath him. His nerves were as cool and steady as though he were riding but a few feet from the ground.
On and on he went, with never a swerve or tremor, and almost before he knew it he had shot across the three hundred feet and was going down the other slope.
Joe had ridden across without a life-net.
"He did it! He did it!" yelled the crowd.
"Of course I did," said Joe to himself, smiling. "Why shouldn't I?"
But the throng seemed to marvel at the absence of the net. Long and loudly they applauded Joe, who bowed again and again to the tribute to his nerve.
The net arrived that afternoon, and Joe was not going to have it stretched. But he had to change his mind when the police refused to let him ride unless he used the net as a precaution.
"It's suicidal to ride that high wire without a net below you," said the chief of police, to whom some one had made a complaint.
"I don't think so," Joe answered.
"Well, I do. I don't want to seem harsh, young man, but you'll ride over a net, or you won't ride at all."
So Joe gave in. But he could not understand the objection. It was his great nerve that made him thus callous to possible danger.
All week long the aerial wire-rider gave his two exhibitions each day at the Livingston fair, and crowds came at each performance to watch him. There was not a hitch in the proceedings, and Joe felt he had earned his money. He appreciated, though, the fact of staying a week in one place, and wished he had more engagements like this.
And it was on the last day, late in the afternoon, when the biggest crowd of all was present that Joe's other bad luck came to him.
He was half way across the high wire, and had a sort of feeling of relief that his week's work was about over, when suddenly a bird flashed past so close to Joe's face as almost to touch him. The advent of the feathered creature was so quick that Joe started, and the start imparted itself to his handle bars.
The front wheel swerved, and Joe knew in an instant that he must act quickly or have a bad fall. The wheel had moved more than he had supposed, and the next instant the groove slipped off the wire.
The motor-cycle started to swing to one side, and Joe knew it was useless to try to hold it on the wire. His one thought now was to save himself as best he could, and he thought with relief of the net below him.
"Look! Look! He's falling!" came the horror-stricken cry from the watching throng.
The fire-spitting motor-cycle was now pitching forward. The front wheel was completely off the wire, and the rear one was following.
For a fraction of a second the machine was almost crosswise of the steel cable and then it turned over, spilling Joe from the saddle.
But before this Joe had swung himself free and was leaping out as best he could to get away from the mass of steel. Instinctively, as he fell, he shut off the power.
Then Joe felt himself falling toward the net, and at once his head was as cool as it had been in the circus, where he had made hundreds of such falls or leaps on purpose. Down and down he went.
Then Joe felt himself falling toward the net.
"If I can only keep clear of the machine!" Joe thought in a flash.